Nothing Else Matters
by Bella Lilac
Summary: It's those horrifying seconds of not knowing whether someone you love is still alive. Teenchesters - Hurt/Upset - Sam Caring/Big brother - Dean
1. Nothing More Precious

I do not own Supernatural or any of these characters. Title and lyrics belong to Metallica.

* * *

 _"Little brother, don't you cry... let me tend to these wounds as I hold you tight, big brother is here to make things right... so little brother, dry your eyes."_

 _-_ Myself

* * *

"Take your brother back to the motel, Dean. Go, now."

Dean turned his eyes from his baby brother, he held cradled in his arms, to his father. "What about you, dad?"

"I've got another hunt in the next town over. Can't say how long I'll be gone, could be a week. Just look after Sammy."

His father sounded slightly guilty for leaving them again on a short notice, especially for leaving him with a hurt Sam. But his brother was his responsibility, always had been, and always will be - and nothing, or nobody will ever take that responsibility away from him, not even his own father.

"Always, dad," was the reply, as he pulled his brother closer against him, his chest swelling with the fierce protectiveness that had been there everyday since his little brother was born.

His father nodded shortly, "I know you will, Dean. Now, go."

...

The incline had been a long, tedious journey, with the grass still damp from the downpour they had earlier this afternoon. The weather man had predicted rain - and he'd been right. The smell from the late evening shower still lingered in the late night air, as the thick forest of trees silently swept their dark shadows among the forest floor, giving off a darkened glow to its surroundings. The large flashlight Dean balanced in one hand - the faded yellow plastic of the torch handle gripped tightly in his fist - as the same hand was carefully cradled beneath his brothers back, keeping his touch as far from the wound as possible. The beam of the heavy duty light bounced along the slick, thickly shrub ridden floor, as the sound of twigs and broken debris crunched beneath his brown leather boots.

He'd left the Impala parked at the gravelled edge of the two laned highway, just a few short hours ago. The hunt should have been simple. The downtown local police department had reports in the area of mauled bodies with their hearts brutally removed from their chests; the latest victims being a middle aged couple hiking through these same woods a whole week and a half ago. Nobody could make sense, a bear, maybe a wolf? But the Winchester's knew that ment one thing, and only one thing; a werewolf.

The hunt had gone reasonably well - in the beginning, until a third werewolf snuck upon them, and made itself known by viciously attacking Sam from behind, their dad didn't take two seconds to know their new presence. He fired the bow aiming dead on, the creature took the arrow to the heart, dropping immediately. But unfortunately that hadn't been the only thing that'd dropped like a heavy weight to the thickly covered ground...

Dean protectively tightened his hold on his brother, pressing him closer into his chest. Remembering those horrifying seconds of not knowing whether his little brother was alive; but the steady pulse, and thudump, thudump of his chest was a good reminder that Sammy was still here.

The beam of the flash light cut through the dark, presenting its wide spread glow on the one thing Dean had been waiting for - the one thing he needed right now, but hadn't come quick enough. The black sheen of the beastly muscle car stood out like the moon on a blackened sky, as the golden circle of light lit up the sleek beauty.

Dean quickened his pace, his heavy boots crunching on the roadside gravel with his little brother pressed protectively to his chest, his hold never wavering.

When he had both of his 'baby's' within reach, he balanced himself against the passenger side door, and shifted Sam to one arm - as he'd done many a times, and was well practiced at. And with Sam being rather small for his age, looking more ten or eleven-years-old rather than thirteen, it wasn't too hard - and reached his left hand deep into his jeans pocket to retrieve his keys. He turned the key in the door lock, knowing his girl never failed him as the lock on the inside popped up. He took hold of the thin stainless steel door handle, opening the door. He menoeuvred his kid brother around the door, placing him carefully onto the black leather bench seat. And closed the door, before coming round the drivers side, and settling behind the wheel.

Before starting the ignition, Dean glanced across to Sammy to see he had slightly list to the side, but was still completely unconscious. Without hesitation he shrugged off his leather jacket he was wearing, then immediately peeled his white t-shirt over his head, leaving him bare chested with just the black cord around his neck of the gift Sammy had given him so many Christmas's ago; that he held more valuable than any other item he possessed... almost. He briefly glanced down as the golden amulet gently rocked against his well muscular chest - that'd been built up through his dad's hard work at training - and gave a fond smile remembering all those years back when Sam had handed him the small newspaper wrapped parcel, his heart had swelled in his chest as he'd hung the gift around his neck, with him never taking it off since.

Dean silently shook the memory away. Those had been the days when monsters had been of the imagination, just a scary thing inside the closet - well for Sammy anyway, Dean had always known. His father didn't have to tell him, he'd known. And as for the amulet been high on his list of treasures; nothing and nobody came close to his brother, the kid was his number one... and it almost killed him to say it, but not even the Impala won out between his brother - only the kid doesn't know it - and even though he'd never voice that thought verbally, if the heartbreaking decision ever came to, he knew the kid would win out... always.

But that's not to say the amulet wasn't important - it was the most precious thing his brother had given him.

The air was chilled out, and it wasn't much better in the car, with the windows taking on a foggy haze at every warm breath they breathed. He turned the key in the ignition, getting a meaty growl from the engine - but didn't have time to take pleasure in it, as he leaned across to the centre console and flipped up the short black leavers to full, feeling the hot air blast out through the vents. With the heaters doing their job, he glanced over towards the passenger side noting the kid was still out. His brother was still in the exact same position, looking much like a rag doll that had been placed in a sitting up right position; with his head slightly drooping and upper half fallen to the right - and very carefully he reached across the seat placing his left hand under his brothers right arm against his upper rib cage, and gently eased him across the leather bench seat. It took a little bit more trouble then expected, but he eventually had the kid lying curled up along the black leather with his head resting against his thigh.

He gave a deep rugged sigh, before carefully unzipping his brothers grey hoodie that'd been ripped to shreds by the creatures claws on the lower right side - and as he looked closer he noticed even in the dim light the deep patch of red that was now seeping through the thick cotton. He slowly eased up the hem of the faded black t-shirt that had once been his, and noticing just how damp the material was, he grabbed at his own t-shirt he'd stripped off and pressed it firmly against the pooling red, sickly looking gashes in his brothers abdomen. He needed to get out of here now, his brother needed immediate medical attention and he couldn't give it here, not when it was pitch black out with such little light.

Dean gently draped his leather jacket over his sleeping baby brother, with the boy shifting slightly against him and mumbling something unintelligible. He took in his brothers expression and knew from the pained lines that were edged into his sleeping features that he wasn't resting peacefully - and needing to get Sammy home fast. With that in mind he put the car into gear and pressed hard on the accelerator, taking a sharp right of the steering wheel, as the tyers squealed on the pavement - silently apologising to his girl - he peeled back the way they'd come.

It could have been hours, it could have been days... Sam had no idea how long he'd been out of it for, and sadly he couldn't even bring himself to remember at all had happened. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, feeling himself being jostled gently in a moving vehicle - taking in a breath, he could smell the familiar scent of - 'home', 'safety' and 'comfort' - of the Impala. His legs were cramping from being curled up for a long period of time, stretching them out he felt the sole of his left sneaker thump against the passenger door, with his foot stopping short - being at his height he was still able to fully stretch out along the leather bench seat - then began to shift his upper half into a more comfortable position, before immediately stiffening...

...his breathing hitched, as he scrunched his eyes tighter, his whole right side was overtaken by an excrucating pain, that felt as though someone had lit a flame thrower inside him that exploded throughout the right side of his abdomen. He groaned at the pain, and wrapped both his arms over the offending area.

"Sammy?"

Sam's mind immediately clasped onto the sound of Dean's voice, he reacted by turning slightly in the direction the sound had come, and shifted wanting the close comfort that he yearned from his older brother when hurting; but the movement of his upper body caused the wound to erupt again with breathtaking pain. He winced, then tried covering it with a deep swallow, and shallow breaths.

"Easy, Sammy. Don't try to move, okay." Dean said softly, with the hopes his brother will listen. "Just keep still." He knew the kid shouldn't be moving, it was just causing unnecessary pain.

But after another moment he felt Sam shuffle again, with another moan that sounded on the verge of a sob, and let his right hand go from the steering wheel placing it protectively around his brothers rib cage being mindful of the wound, and rubbed his hand up and down his little brothers chest.

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean soothed his thirteen-year-old brother, "I gotcha. Just stay still, okay?" He sighed thankfully at hearing his brother let out a unsteady but relaxed breath at his touch - then glanced out the windshield at the well lit road ahead; the headlights of the Impala throwing the light widespread across the road - before briefly turning his eyes back down at his brother who was again resting peacefully against him - well for the moment he was resting peacefully...

...and drove silently for a few more moments, just like that.

The loan, stark night travel continued silently along the almost isolated roads, Dean continued to grip the steering wheel with one hand as his right rested loosely splayed in the centre of his brothers chest. They were a good ten minutes out from the motel when Sam began getting restless again; he shifted his torso on the worn leather giving a shaky sigh, as both his arms protectively guarded his right side.

Dean took his eyes from the road in front and checked his rearview mirror - seeing one set of headlights behind them, but a good distance way back - then moved his vision to his brother. He knew Sammy was hurting bad, and those wounds had to be hurting like hell. But there wasn't a whole lot he could do till they reached the motel.

"You ok?" he asked gently, even though he knew his baby brother was anything but ok - but felt the need to ask anyway and received a soft moan from his brother. "We're nearly there, Sammy. Just ten more minutes, okay?" Dean reassured, pressing his foot down a little harder on the accelerator bringing the dial upto 112 in a 100 zone, and earning a determined growl from the Impala's engine... "Good girl", he silently praised the car, giving the steering wheel an affectionate pat; he'd already been going over the limit at 107, so what's another 5k's really?...

Sam sighed shortly, not feeling much upto talking to give a verbal answer. He was sure Dean knew that anyway with how attentive his brother was, he sometimes thought Dean knew him better than himself. And that says alot.

Sam shuffled in his seat again, trying for all the world to get comfy - but felt he was fighting a loosing battle with how much pain he was feeling in his mid-section. He moved his hands slightly, feeling the stickiness from the blood that'd soaked through on his fingers, and felt as though he could taste the blood with the smell of metallic so thick in the air. He groaned again with a wince as his side flared up again at the movement.

"Easy, Sammy. We're almost there." Dean murmured, giving Sam's chest an encouraging rub. He could now see the half-light neon sign for the - dump of a motel they were currently staying at - up ahead, and pushed his girl on. He turned his left indicator on, and steered the Impala up the old gravel drive of the motel, pulling in front of room 14.

"We're here, Sammy." Dean announced, as he threw the car in park and almost ripped the keys from the ignition. "Just wait here, kiddo," he said, gently guiding his brother from his denim-clad thigh - all the while the kid groaned softly at the change in position as the pain constantly licked at his side - and letting him lean back against the leather seat for the moment. "I'll come around and get you." He quickly exited the drivers side, and semi-jogged around the front end of the car to Sam's door. He could see in through the passenger window that Sam was still in the same position with his arms wrapped protectively around his right side.

Dean opened the door carefully, and leaned part way in the passenger side to reach for his brother. He gently guided Sam towards himself so he could get a better angle and grip on his little brother to carry him to the house.

"Easy, Sammy." He soothed at his brothers pained groan, and didn't fail to notice as Sam's arms tightened ever further over his abdomen. Dean placed one arm behind his brothers back as he carefully slid his other hand beneath his knees, and gently lifted Sam the rest of the way from the car and firmly to his chest.

"D'n." Sam moaned through gritted teeth at the painful transfer, as he squeezed his eyes closed.

"It's alright, Sammy. It's alright." Dean soothed but winced inside at his brothers pain, as he took a steady step backwards away from the car door with his baby brother safety in his arms, and pushed the car door closed with his hip, before carrying his brother to the motels door. He leaned against the door jamb as he once again balanced his brother, and pocketed the Impala's keys but at the same time retrieving the motels ones.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open revealing their unkempt room that had a shared twin bed along with a tattered sofa and highly static 21 inch CRT television. A small laminated kitchenette lined the wall just off to the left of the stand held TV, then through the door on the right of the bed was a small bathroom.

Dean carried Sam over to the unmade bed, placing him down carefully on the multicoloured checkered quilt cover - whoever designed this room didn't have much in the way of the interior design department - not that Dean knew much about interior designing, but throwing together an uncoordinated chapstick of colours - even the worst offender of colour coordinators would know better than that.

Dean watched his brother instinctively curl in on himself as his hands never let up on their death grip to his side, then started to move away from the bed to fetch the first-aid.

"D'n," Sammy whimpered, seeing his brother moving away from him.

Dean turned back to face the bed, his attention immediately on his little brother - the look on his kid brothers face almost made him lose it - Sammy looked so young lying there on the double bed, so lost in the large space as ruby red blood ran down his side and into the bedding below, but worst of all he looked scared. His large brown puppy dog eyes asking Dean to make everything better, to fix everything like he knew his big brother would...

...Dean always did. Always would in Sam's eyes.

But one thing that always broke his big brother was seeing Sammy like this.

Dean could handle pretty much anything that got thrown his way - killing overgrown fuglies that'd make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and any parent to have nightmares, he'd had his mother taken from him at the tender age of four and practically raised his kid brother, hell... he'd seen his father come home with that much blood on him that it could fill the Caspian Sea, and issued more medical treatments by the age of seventeen he could be a doctor by profession. But seeing his little brother hurt, almost killed him.

Dean moved forwards again a little and knelt down on his hunches so he could look directly into Sam's eyes, and placed a comforting hand to his brothers upper arm, rubbing softly.

"It's alright, Sammy." Dean soothed, wishing he could take the pain from his brother. "You know, I'm here. And I'd never let anything happen to you, right?"

Sam believed his brother, every word of it. Dean would rather die than let anything happen to Sam. Sam nodded, as his heart and facial features threw off full trust as he glanced up at Dean through his bangs; the puppy eyes never let up.

"That's right, kiddo. And don't you ever forget it. Now let's get this first aid and patch you back up to your pain-in-the-ass self. What do you say little brother?" Dean said trying to keep his voice light to match that of the comment itself, and hopefully ease his brother a little. But however, it didn't come across that way; his tone dripped with a broken heaviness, much like the situation before him. He watched as Sam tried to crack a grin, but however the expression itself came across more as a pained look.

To most people, or in Sam's case - teenagers - being called a pain-in-the-ass by your older brother would have been said in hurt, or as in insult, or maybe to get said little brother to stop annoying you, or away from you when trying to hang with your older group of friends. And statistics show most brotherly relationships at this level. But not Sam and Dean. Theirs was different. Being called a pain-in-the-ass wasn't about hurt, or payback, or even jealousy, it wasn't even said with an ounce of anger. The fact is, it was a simple statement, one so clear to both Winchesters - it was just another expression for... I love you. Among their many others.

Sam scrunched his eyes together tightly as he tried to fight the painful fire burning at his side. It was time to get Sammy patched up, the kid was hurting and Dean couldn't stand seeing him like it any longer.

"I'll be right back, okay?" He reassured the kid, and stood back to his full height. He turned in the direction of the bathroom, but before entering he pulled his old warn black Metallica shirt that'd been tossed carelessly over the back of a wooden kitchen chair the day before, and shrugged it on over his head - whilst pulling the amulet to the front - as he passed through the bathroom door.

The kit was still lying left and untouched on the long porcelain bench that joined with the mint green porcelain sink - the whole bathroom was washed in the same mint colour, even the toilet except it was fortunate enough to gain a white lid. Along the wall was a full length mirror that was cut off by the shower beside it. Dean quickly grabbed the kit from the bench, and made his way over to the bed again.

Dean rounded to the opposite side of the bed, with Sam facing directly away from him. "Alright, Sammy." Dean licked his dry lips, as he knelt on the bed beside his brother. He placed the non store brought kit - that contained almost anything that was held, or rather was once held, in the hospital medical cabinets... that'd been silently pocketed on their rare off hospital visits - on the muti-coloured quilt beside himself.

"D'n," Sam half sobbed, as he curled even more in on himself and forcefully cluched at his side - the pain was slowly getting the better of him; like a never ending wall of flames licking his insides then every couple of seconds after the most excruciating pain would shoot through almost stealing his breath. He could never wish this pain upon anybody, not even his worst enemy... and that was a huge deal to think for a thirteen-year-old boy.

Dean studied his little brother for a moment, knowing the kid needed comforting above all else. He shifted back carefully to avoid rocking the bed, placing his back up against the headboard and splayed his legs out infront of him in a V shape. He knew shifting his brother would be a bitch, but Sam having the close comfort was first priority. He leaned his torso forwards, and carefully, very carefully snaked his arm underneath his brothers left side.

"D'n...?"

"Just bear with me, Sammy." He reassured, guiding his other hand under his brothers bent knees, then with great caution that only one could have with another they loved so strongly, moving his brother so the kid was practically laying in his lap. The kids thighs rested over his knees as his backside and back took priority between his legs and rested on the quilt cover, as his upper body leaned against Dean's opposite thigh with his head tucked against his stomach.

"You can thank me later for being so awesome." He teased, rubbing his open palm on Sam's upper arm.

Sam laughed softly, then moaned at the slight movement of his side.

Dean gently removed his hands away from Sam and turned slightly to his right to where he'd sat the first aid. He pulled the red softpack case closer to himself and pulled on the middle black zipper, unzipping it till it hit the other side of the large brick shaped med-kit, revealing the contents of the second - and largest - compartment.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked miserably, as he watched his brother.

"Well, Sammy. I need to stitch you up, but first I need to clean the wound. Think you can handle that, kiddo?" Dean asked honestly, knowing full well that the hydrogen peroxide was going to hurt like a bitch. But the wound had to be cleaned, Sammy would be worse off if an infection spread because it wasn't cleaned properly. And on Dean's watch that wasn't even an option.

Sam gave an uncertain nod; knowing the wound had to be cleaned, but in two minds about having it done. One - it was going to hurt, and two - it WAS going to HURT. Sam watched warily as Dean pulled a brown glass bottle with a white twist cap from the first aid, then retrieved a fresh white cloth from the same compartment.

"Shirt up, Sammy." Dean gently told his brother as he untwisted the cap, while keeping a cautious eye on his little brother.

...

Bella Lilac


	2. Crying Tears of Pain

Sammy shook his head, very slowly at first as he watched Dean remove the cap - he wasn't sure if he could do this, to handle anymore pain. Sure, he knew well enough by now, if your doing this line of work - and from experience of seeing his father and brother hurt - you're bound to come home with injuries. Not that he 'chose' this line of work... but that aside, this is the worst off Sam has ever been. His hair flopped over his eyes as he shook his head harder.

"I can't, Dean." He half sobbed, half whined; clutching at his side so hard and willing the pain to just leave.

Dean studied his brother for a second, "Yes, you can, Sammy. I know you can. I know you can do this."

"No... Dean-"

Damn, those puppy eyes. "Yes... yes you can, Sam." Dean wasn't about to let his drop, all the kid needed was some encouragement and reassurance. "I'll take care of you and you'll be okay. Do you trust me, little brother?"

Sam nodded slowly, "Yeah..." Of course he trusted Dean, there wasn't anyone on this entire planet he trusted more. He trusted Dean with his life. And that's saying a lot.

Dean nodded shortly, "Alright, Sammy. Let's do this, huh?"

Sam swallowed, and turned slightly burying his face fully into his brothers black t-shirt, and squeezed his eyes shut; his way of giving his brother full consent to take control, he wasn't sure his mouth or other body parts would cooperate, so finding comfort in his brother seemed to do the trick. Dean sat the bottle of hydrogen peroxide down on the bedside table for the moment, he needed to remove the kids shirt. Sam felt Dean gently pry his hands away from his abdomen, letting him take hold of his brothers shirt instead - Sam instantly clutched at the hem of his big brothers faded shirt, bunching the material between clenched fists. He felt Dean take hold of his blood soaked top, gently lifting it away from the stickiness of thick crimson and slid it up past his ribs.

"Let's get this off of you," Dean said, pulling the t-shirt to his chest. "Think you can lean up a little for me, Sammy?"

Sam mumbled a groan in response, but leaned away from his brothers chest. Dean held Sammy with one hand helping him lean up slightly as he removed the bloodied top with his other hand. Sam moaned a sulky moan as he felt the coldness of the room hit him immediately, letting him shiver so subtly. Before resuming his place against Dean's chest.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean said, feeling bad for his baby brother, as he retrieved the brown bottle.

Dean readied the cloth in one hand as he tilted the bottle of hydrogen peroxide with the other; he didn't know if he was ready for this - patching his father up, that was one thing, but patching Sammy up... HURTING Sammy, it was Dean's job to look after his little brother not to hurt him. Even if it was for Sam's own good. Sure, Dean had patched his brother up on numerous times - more times then he can count on each star in the sky - from skinned knees, to the odd splinter in the finger, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it any better. He hated seeing his brother upset, or in tears, it was never a good feeling. It was his job to dry those tears, to make everything better.

Which is exactly what he was about to do. But not yet.

Because, first he had to cause the tears...

...before he could dry them.

Dean moved the soaked white cloth towards his brother at the same time of placing his left hand to Sam's chest, and rubbing softly to calm his little brother.

Sammy felt the cloth as soon as it touched, he grit his teeth to stop from crying out and squeezed his eyes tighter, along with his grip on the shirt being a sudden death grip on the black cotton. The burning sensation that had been present had nothing on this - there was no other way to describe it, other than - pure hell... that had to sum it up to what Sam was feeling.

"Just relax, Sammy. Just relax." Dean soothed, at his brothers sudden tense posture.

Sam's body took on a mind of its own, he could feel it instinctively trying to avoid the pain and flinching away every time Dean pressed down on the gash. His whole body was overridden by light tremors, that involuntarily shuddered right down to his core. He couldn't help the first tear that escaped, as it rolled down his cheek and disappearing into the thin cotton of his brothers shirt, but that tear wasn't lone as another slid down and then another.

Dean felt every movement, every flinch, each time his little brother tried to pull away; he kept his left hand protectively placed on Sam's chest as he continued to rub it gently.

"Almost done, kiddo." He reassured lightly, praying for this part to be over.

After the wounds look thoroughly cleaned, Dean set aside the used cloth and reached for the first aid again, unzipping the first closure. He retrieved the suture kit, and a bottle of alcohol to clean the tools with. He thoroughly swipped the disinfectant over each instrument before setting them down on an unused splayed out cloth on the quilt cover.

"Okay, Sammy. I need you to hold really still for me." Dean said talking a hold of the forceps - he always found the name a little absurd, when the instrument looked to him like a simple pair of tweezers. He situated the tool in his first three fingers of his left hand as you would a pen, and steadily moved his hand forwards to hover over the first gash to be sown.

Even though Dean was preoccupied with getting the instruments ready, his attention and focus never wavered from the kid; keeping his little brother in his peripheral view.

With the forceps now occupying his left hand, he then grasped the needle holder in his right by partially inserting his thumb and ring finger into the loops of the handle. Using the needle holder he grasped the threaded curved needle at its centre.

"Okay... here we go, Sammy." Dean warned, he carefully pinched the skin edges together of the first wound with the forceps, feeling his brother automatically tense.

He guided his right hand just above the wound, and rotated his wrist to have the needle pierce the skin at a 90 degree angle. With careful precision he pierced the needle through the first layer of the skin.

Dean being ever attentive to his brother heard Sammy's gasp, as well as the tightening of fists in his shirt.

"Easy, Sammy. Easy." He soothed, as he pushed the needle right through, and moved his hand to pull it from the other side. He pulled the thread through leaving 3 cms remaining to tie it off in a square knot. He began the knot by wrapping the longer of the two ends over the needle holder, then grasped the short end and drawing it through the loop, tightening it just enough to just pull the skin edges together. Then repeated the knot twice more, and cut off the ends leaving 3 mm tails.

With the first stitch complete, he guided the tools 4 millimetres from the first one to start on the second suture. As he pierced the first layer of skin like he'd done on the first stitch, he heard Sammy's sharp intake of breath. Then a ruggered outer breath, followed with another fast intake.

He recognised the signs without being told.

"Whoa, Sammy." Dean carefully removed the needle before completing the stitch, and placed all three instruments back on the cloth.

"Just breathe, Sam. Slow, deep, breathes." Dean encouraged as Sam's breathing quickened and from how rapidly shallow it was, he knew Sam was going into shock on him. He pressed his fingers to Sam's neck feeling the weak but rapid thumping of his pulse, and placing his other hand to Sam's chest, the fast rising and falling of his chest.

Sonovabitch... he knew he had to get the kids breathing slowed - RIGHT NOW. He didn't need this, the kid didn't need this - he knew the seriousness of shock and that it had to be addresses immediately... because right now, death wasn't even an option.

Sammy weakly turned his face from his brothers chest, his disorientated eyes staring up at his brothers face.

Dean ignored the paleness of the kids lips, and focused on keeping his little brother calm. "You're getting a bit stocky on me there, Sammy." He said, trying to keep his voice light. "Just breathe, kiddo. In, an' out, in, out-"

Dean waited till Sam started following direction as he kept his hands firmly planted to the kids pulse and chest. "That's it, Sammy. In and out, nice and slow." He gave his brothers chest a rub as more encouragement, and feeling his breathing slowly regulate. "That's my boy, Sammy." He praised, brushing the hand he'd held to the kids pulse through his little brothers bangs, and sweeping them from his large brown pain filled eyes. "That's my boy."

Even though his little brothers breathing was as back to normal as it could be in his current situation, he was far from out of the woods yet. Dean still had to finish stitching those deep wounds; wishing he'd picked up a vial of lidocaine on their last hospital visit. And maybe administrate a good dose of antibiotics to stop any infections.

"Okay, kiddo. Let's get this done. Just try and relax for me alright." Dean said doing a double quick check on his little brother, to make sure the kid was alright for now. He gave the kids chest a comforting rub, before resuming his hold of the suture instruments, but didn't make any other move other than grasp the equipment in the same grip as before.

The look on Sammy's face stopped any action.

The kid had those damn big puppy eyes with that mop of hair and those bangs that constantly fell over his little brothers eyes - he was forever sweeping that unruly hair aside - his bottom lip was slightly quivering and his eyes moist... but the thing that got to Dean the most was the look, it was a look of pleading... him practically begging Dean to take the pain away.

It was killing him.

And those eyes... those eyes were practically eating away at his heart - an inch every time he caused Sammy pain.

Dean regained his composure, he needed to stay strong for Sam.

"I know, Sammy... I know. Look, we'll be done soon, and then you can rest." He soothed; wishing he could take the pain from his little brother. "Everything will be okay, I promise, Sammy."

Sam nervously bit his lower lip and nodded slowly, as he took a deep shaky breath; taking reassurance in his brothers words and silently turned burying his face against Dean's shirt covered stomach again. He hadn't let go of the shirt the whole time, his fingers still clutching it just as tight as he had at the start of this whole nightmare. He knew Dean knew he'd just given him the go ahead, but he just wanted it to all be over with.

Dean sighed, "I promise everything will be okay, little brother." He repeated, but this time he felt it was more to reassure himself than Sam. He sighed again, before resuming where he'd left off before.

He set down the needle holder in trade for an unused cloth and gently dabbed at the freshly seeped blood, earning a small hiss from Sam. He tossed the rag aside to retrieve the needle holder, and getting a good grip on the curved needle again.

And on to the second stitch...

The bedside clock ticked by as the minutes passed - though the time was the least of Dean's worries, but he knew it had to be well after one by now as they hadn't left the forest till around half past twelve. So he knew it was late, and also well and truly past Sam's bedtime - though glancing down at his little brother, he wasn't sure if the kid was dosing or not, but in the last few moments he hadn't heard a peep from him.

For Sammy's sake it'd be a good thing if the kid did happen to nod off and for Dean it'd be one less thing to worry about - if the kid slept, least he won't feel the pain.

But Sammy wasn't asleep, in fact, he was far from it - sure he was tired, more than tired, but the pain was too overpowering for sleep to overcome him. Instead he kept his teeth gritted tightly together to keep silent, as non-stop tears filled his eyes.

He wanted to be strong, to be brave, as a hunter should.

Just as his big brother was.

Dean kept his focus between keeping the stitches as neat and small as possible to minimising scaring, whilst keeping a constant eye on his little brothers current state. He tied off another square knot, and went on to stitch seventeen...

Sammy still stayed quiet. Dean had felt his chest after every few stitches, just for reassurance that the kid was still breathing okay, and everything was as normal as it should be. Some may call it overprotective, or a worry wart; but to Dean checking on his kid brothers well being came as natural as breathing.

But his hope was short lived, as he started on the next stitch. He'd just pushed the curved needle through the first layer when a small whimper came from his little brother.

So much for trying to be stoic...

"Sammy?" Dean called softly.

"Hmm," Came the mumbled response, as Sam shifted slightly in his position against his brother.

"How you going back there, kiddo?"

"Tired, Dean. Hurts..." He mumbled with a tinge of a whine against his brother, with his face still pressed against his shirt covered stomach.

Dean sighed lightly, "I know, kiddo. Almost done." He knew that was only half truth, they were only mid way though. But Sammy didn't need to know that; a small white lie never hurt no one, and besides almost done sound better then half way there.

"De-an..." Sammy whined in the way only little brothers could master, bringing out the one syllable name and dragging it into two.

"Just relax, Sammy. We'll be done soon." Dean reassured, guiding the curved needle the rest of the way though the skin, and gently pulled it from the other side leaving the 3 mms of thread, then tied off the square knots.

Sam snuffled quietly into his brothers warn shirt, as tears ran down his cheeks. He'd tried to hold out as long as possible and ride out the pain, not wanting to break down and look like a baby in front of his big brother; but it was too much... it was ALL too much - he was tired, he was hurting, and now he was crying. He felt really miserable.

If Dean hadn't been so in tune with his brother he'd never had caught it, it was so faint but he'd heard it. Dean was silently proud of his brother, that the kid had held out for this long - he knew how painful this was, having endured the same pain himself on numerous occasions.

But they were hunters. Their father had taught them years ago - before Sammy was even ready to come out on hunting trips - and then almost every day from then on how to defend themselves, and the proper technique to fight, but also on how to handle pain. Sam only started coming out with them on hunts when he turned thirteen, so all in all, Sam had only been out on very few hunts and on those occasions only suffered very minor injuries which were patched up with a quick swipe of hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid; but Dean knew in his experience that this wouldn't be the last of Sammy's injuries.

Sam whimpered with a soft sob, as Dean pushed the curved needle through the deep wound again. He kept his face buried against his brother, and his hands were starting to cramp from how tightly he was gripping Dean's shirt.

"Shh, Sammy... It's alright." Dean soothed, getting ready to do the next stitch.

Sam winced as he felt the needle pushing into his skin again - he was more than ready for this to be over with - more tears escaped but rather than running freely down his cheeks, they soaked their way into the thin faded cotton, leaving behind a dampened mess.

Dean finished the stitch, and tied it off. "You're doing really good, kiddo." He encouraged, even though he felt like an ass for causing the pain. He sighed, before readying himself to make another stitch.

He shouldn't even be the doing this... sure, his little brother was his responsibility - but this was a job for a doctor. But even at an early on age his father had warned them about going to the hospital unless it was absolutely nessesary.

The less people knew about them, the better.

And people in authority ask too many questions, and they can't give out to many answers - and the more lies you tell, the harder it is to keep track of the lies.

Dean sighed again, as he tied off another stitch.

And the lies will never stop...

Cause he'll never stop being a hunter.

"Alright, Sammy. Only two more to go." He reassured his distressed little brother.

Sam wasn't holding out his sobs anymore with trying to keep them quiet - about five minutes ago he let go of any dignity he had left, and broke - with deep, heart wrenching sobs; his hands were balling up the material of Dean's shirt in death-clenching fists, and the flood gates opened with him bawling so intensely he didn't think he'd ever stop.

And he didn't give a damn who was listening either.

The pain was too intense to do otherwise.

After a painstakingly long half an hour, Dean was just setting the last stitch... stitch number twenty-seven to be exact. The werewolf had done a number on Sammy, leaving two large gashes that had needed stitching; the first one took twelve stitches, whereas the middle one had been a little longer taking fifteen. Luckily the others were just flesh wounds and would heal on their own.

"Almost done, Sammy. Just need to tie it off now."

If Dean's heart wasn't shattered before, it was now. The sound of his baby brothers crying tearing at every last string attached to it, and ripping it in two.

Dean finished off the last square knot, and cut off the end. Then did a half-assed job of packing the suture kit up, he'd fix it up later, but for now his little brother came first. He brushed his hand gently through the kids unruly mop of hair, and used his other hand to rub his brothers chest.

"Hey, hey Sammy." He said, giving the kids chest a firmer rub to get his brothers attention. "You need to calm down, little brother."

The kid was going to make himself sick if he kept this up.

"Sammy, listen to me..." He tried again, giving his brother another firm rub. "Calm down, kiddo. Or you're going to make yourself sick."

Not that having his little brother puke on him was anything new... the kid just sometimes had REALLY bad timing. But he didn't want the kid sick on top of being injured... that was like shooting a man when he was down - and that wasn't acceptable in Dean's book.

"That's it, little brother." He soothed, as the kids crying started to taper off. "That's it."

He wasn't overly concerned about having his little brother stop completely, just to take the edge off... and to let the kid take a damn breather. But he was almost certain the kid would be right back at it again.

He still had to administer a good dose of antibiotics, and he knew how much that shit hurt.

Content with his brothers soft sobs, he knew he had to get this next part done - the wound had been deep, and an infection was a big possibility. There was no easy way of doing this, so he'd just have to bear with more tears from the kid, and get it over and done with.

With that in mind, he reached into the first aid kit again feeling the sleek, glass vial of penicillin, he pulled it from the red softpack case and placed it down on the quilt cover before retrieving a sealed syringe and alcohol wipe from the same compartment.

...

Bella Lilac


	3. Streams of Crimson

He glanced down at his little brother; the kid had no idea what he was about to do - with his head still pressed in against Dean's stomach, as he continued to sob softly. Dean gave him one last look before he reached to unbutton the kids jeans and fold the waistband down to expose the top of his buttock and bottom hip. His little brothers bottom half was already slightly leveraged from the kids smaller legs resting over his larger ones, he very carefully - being mindful of the fresh stitches so not to break any, or to cause his little brother anymore pain - eased his brothers lower hip over just enough to have a clearer access to the top half of his brothers right buttock.

He pulled the seal of the packaged syringe open, then opened the alcohol wipe, swiping the muscular area on the kids backside.

Sam took a shaky breath and snivelled, he could feel Dean doing something but wasn't sure what, and felt the cool air exposed on his upper backside cheek. He scrunched his face as he snuffled again, getting a little nervous - his brother wasn't going to spank him, was he?

"D'n?" He asked, his voice raspy from crying.

Dean looked down at his little brother, whose head was still tucked in against his black Metallica shirt. "Just relax, Sammy. I need you to be really still for me... okay, little brother?"

Sam nodded, unsure of what was about to happen - but trusting his brother completely.

Dean took hold of the injection with his writing hand, and pulled the cover off with the other, then filled the syringe with penicillin. He placed his left hand to area of his brothers backside where the injection was to be placed, gently pressing on the area and pulled the skin so it was slightly tight. Dean held the syringe barrel tightly, and glanced at his kid brother again.

He closed his eyes briefly - not wanting to do this, but knowing it was nessesary, his brother would be worst off if that wound got infected - before using his wrist the help push the needle through the skin and into the muscle at a 90 degree angle. He heard the whimper from his brother as the needle slid in.

He knew this was going to hurt like a sonovabitch, as his father had done the same thing to him on numerous times after being badly injured after a hunt, and visa versa. His little brother on the other hand has never had the unfortunate experience of the fire burning pain this particular shot will produce.

Dean let go of the skin with his left hand, and pulled back on the plunger to make sure no blood came back, seeing none he pushed down very slowly on the plunger to inject the medicine.

So much for the kid staying quiet.

Sam could literally feel the thick medicine spreading - very slowly, as Dean pushed down on the plunger. It felt like his older brother was pumping fire into his ass. His sobs from before started back at ten fold.

Dean held the syringe steady as the medicine slowly became less, and less. He used his left hand to rub the kids chest, hoping the action might calm his brother down some.

"Almost done, Sammy." He soothed, his only response being a tighter pull at his shirt, as the kid inched himself further into him - if that was at all possible, as the kid was already pressed firmly against his stomach.

"...urts, De..." Sam sobbed.

"I know, Sammy." Dean sympathised, he knew it hurt.

Sam didn't know what hurt worse - the pain from the wound, or the pain from whatever the hell Dean was putting in him.

"Take it out... take it out..." He half sobbed, half screamed at the burning that was slowing making its way down his thigh. He'd rather the stitches any day, this... this was on a whole new level...

"Hold still, little brother." Dean placed his left hand across this brothers thighs to keep him from moving, his body unintentionally squirming from the pain.

"De... take it out..." Sam screamed into Dean's shirt, making the sound muffled.

The last of the thick medicine was pushed through the syringe, Dean removed it gently at the same angle as he'd put it in. Then pulled a fresh gauze from the medical kit, pressing it over the area where a small trickle of blood was already running from the pin sized wound. And placed the used syringe on the bedside table to dispose of in an old soda bottle later - for now his brother came first.

"Easy, little brother... easy. I've gotcha..." He soothed, rubbing the kids chest as well as gently massaging the injected site with his right hand. "It's alright, Sammy. It's all over now, just relax."

Dean sighed; his heart feeling like it was crumbling into a million pieces and being swept right out of his chest, at every painful sob that came from his brother.

Without thinking he moved his arm he had been rubbing his brothers chest with, tucking it gently underneath Sammy's shoulders, and slowly began rocking his little brother as he quietly hummed the opening tune of Metallica's - Nothing Else Matters.

His humming turned to soft singing as he continued to gently rock side to side, with his crying baby brother in his arms.

 _So close no matter how far_

 _Couldn't be much more from the heart_

 _Forever trusting who we are_

 _And nothing else matters_

 _..._

 _Never opened myself this way_

 _Life is ours, we live it our way_

 _All these words I don't just say_

 _And nothing else matters_

 _..._

 _Trust I seek and I find in you_

 _Every day for us something new_

 _Open mind for a different view_

 _And nothing else matters_

He continued to alternate with humming and soft singing - the soothing motion of the rocking and his voice slowly calming his little brother. He just got through another verse as the kid snivelled heavily and gave a shaky sigh. He felt his younger brother move against him, as he nuzzled his face into a more comfortable position against his stomach.

Sam gave another shaky sigh, as he finally started to relax. Though he wasn't out of the woods yet, not by a long shot - but he felt content, and safe in Dean's arms. He closed his eyes, feeling the vibration of his older brothers voice in his chest as Dean continued to sing.

 _Never cared for what they say_

 _Never cared for games they play_

 _Never cared for what they do_

 _Never cared for what they know_

 _And I know_

 _..._

 _So close no matter how far_

 _Couldn't be much more from the heart_

 _Forever trusting who we are_

 _No nothing else matters_

Dean smiled fondly down at the sleeping kid in his arms. His little brother had been through so much in one day, more than any kid his age ought to.

But this was their lives, and it wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

He still needed to wrap a bandage around the stitched wounds, he gave the stitches a once over - he'd made them as small and neat as best he could, to try an avoid any further scaring, the kid already had enough scars on his body without adding another one.

He gently eased his brother up, trying not to wake the sleeping kid, and held him steadily against his chest. He reached into the first-aid, pulling out the beige roll of bandage.

With one hand he slightly leaned his brother forwards and with the other he wound the bandage around his brothers stomach, going from front to back and around again till the bandage was at the end, and clipped the lose end securely to the wrapped bandage.

He then gently lay his brother down in the white sheets and pulled the thick quilt over him, letting it rest just below his chin, before sliding under the covers himself. He stretched out, and threw an arm behind his head - unable to stop the thoughts from the night, running through his head - Sammy had come so close to dying tonight, too close, if it hadn't been for his dad shooting when he had...

He sighed heavily, turning over to look at his baby brother - just glad the kid was still by his side, cause if that son of a bitch got him - well he didn't know what he'd do, but he knew one thing... he would have torn that werewolf to shreds, that was a given.

Because nobody messes with his baby brother, without dealing with him.

He threw a protective arm over Sam's chest, and feeling content that the kid was safe - no one would have the guts to mess with the kid, not with him by his side - he felt for his .45 under his pillow, feeling the sleek cold metal and knew NO ONE would dare mess with him, and with that he fell asleep.

Dean awoke to restless movement from his brother.

 _Sam didn't know where he was, but it felt kind of surreal like he'd been there before but couldn't make anything out due to the dark. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He tried to lift his arm, and realised they'd been bound with a large rope around his chest, and quickly realising as he stumbled that his legs were also tied together._

 _He tried looking around to work out his surroundings, and jumped when he heard something shifting not far behind him. It sounded like an animal or something large moving through thick shrubbery - he could make out the sound of crunching twigs, and the brushing against of tree branches. Then suddenly as if the night had magically turned to day in the blink of an eye, a bright spot light turned on over head. He looked around knowing exactly where he was, he was back in the forest they had been in that night, except it looked different..._

 _The tree leaves were red and dripping with blood, and everything looked black... it looked dead - like the forest had die a long time ago, but it still brought forth life. He heard another rustle behind him, and tried to move again, but this time realised he was sinking. He glanced to the forest floor seeing he wasn't standing on solid ground, but in a stream... but not a stream that was flowing fresh rain water - this was a deep crimson, thick and sickly... flowing with - human, maybe animal, or some other creature that only God knows what - blood. He could smell the stinched smell of burning flesh, and knew he was surrounded by death._

Dean tried to restrain his thrashing brother, scared he was going to pull a stitch or something.

 _The rustling grew closer till it was right up behind him, he tried to scream but nothing came out. Then in an instant he was surrounded by werewolves, but nothing like the one he'd encountered today - there was old dried up blood coating their needle sharp fangs as well as their claws, but over coating the dried blood sat a fresh layer of newly spilt crimson that dripped like a slow leaking tap. The creature took a threatening swipe towards him, as its crawls slashed through the air like a freshly sharpened chiefs knife - and in the almost blinding light - he caught the flicker and gleam from the gleaming razor sharp bone... as a polished blade had, when the rays of sun beamed from it. The wolves encircled him snarling and growling, then out of nowhere a loud voiced boomed through the trees._

"Sam." Dean yelled, trying to wake his brother.

 _Sam looked up knowing he recognised that voice, but he couldn't remember where from. He felt himself sinking further into the stream, the thick crimson coming up to his knees now, he struggled against the force before he felt something smack right across his face. He glared at the werewolf before him, that had striked him, before the boom of the voice flew through the trees again._

Dean was getting desperate, his brother wasn't waking. He raised his hand giving the kid a sharp smack across his right cheek, hoping to knock his little brother out of this night terror the kid was in. "Sam." He called again.

 _The voice grew louder, as the werewolf came closer. He screamed, and thrashed at the wolf wildly trying to get away from it. He screamed at the top of his lungs for his brother, hoping he could somehow hear him. The voice boomed again, as another hard smack feel across his face just as the werewolf leapt towards him..._

Dean raised his hand ready to slap his brother again, when the kid woke with a start and bolted upright; he was panting heavily as his eyes searched frantically around the room, and his hands continued to flail around in front of him.

"Sammy..." Dean called, trying to get his brothers attention. "Sammy, it's alright. You're safe, I'm here, nothing's going to hurt you."

Dean placed his hands over his brothers to stop them, "Listen to me Sam, nothing's here." He rubbed the kids chest, feeling his heart beating a mile per minute. "You're safe with me, Sammy. Nothing's going to get you."

Sam swallowed, and slowly moved his eyes to his brother. "It felt real, Dean." He whispered, glancing up at his brother with big hazel eyes. "It tried to hurt me... it wanted to kill me, Dean." He said, as tears sprang to his eyes.

"Nothing's going to hurt you, Sammy." He reassured his younger brother. "Nothing will hurt you." He said with more force to his words, because like hell anything will hurt Sam.

"But, Dean." Sam said, hesitantly. "It already has."

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"The werewolf." Sam said. "You can't protect me from it, Dean. You can't always protect me..." Sam said getting emotional, with more tears gathering in his eyes.

"Sammy, listen to me..."

"No, you can't always be there, Dean." Sam said, his voice growing louder as the tears ran down his face.

"Alright, chill." Dean scolded, "Now, let's get one thing straight... it's my job to protect you, Sammy. And I never would have let you come out with us tonight, if I'd known you were going to get this worked up about it. So you just need to chill out, dude."

"But, Dean..."

"No, buts, little brother. Now what's this about?" Dean questioned, seeing his younger brother look away. "Sam?"

"It's nothing." Sam groused.

"Sam, I know it's not nothing. So tell me what happened."

Sam huffed, but kept his face turned from his brother. "I dreamt about the stupid werewolf, alright?"

Dean raised his eyebrow, surprised by the attitude change - one minute the kid was scared, and then on the verge of crying, and now he was giving him attitude. He decided to let the attitude go for the moment, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere if he scolded his brother, and instead intended to get to the bottom of this.

"So that's what you dreamt about?" He asked seriously, only to get a nod out of his brother. "Was it the same as tonight?"

Sam shook his head, and turned back to face his brother. "No, it was worse."

"Worse. How so?"

Sam sat in silence a moment, remembering the nightmare of a dream he'd just woke from, and didn't know how to explain it to his brother... he didn't even know how to describe it to himself - it was all just messed up and disturbing to say the least. And it wasn't really something he wanted to think about.

"I don't know. It was just... different." He said looking at his brother, as Dean sat beside him. "Everything looked... just, dead." He said slowly, "And there was blood everywhere, Dean."

"I know, Sammy." Dean sympathised with his brother, cause hunting could do that to you - and especially with a kid at Sam's age. Hell, Dean had seen things when out hunting that could give even the bravest man nightmares. So there was no way he was judging his kid brother about having nightmares. "But everything's alright now, okay?"

He received a small nod, before changing the subject to get the kids mind off of the nightmare. "Speaking of alright, I think I had better check those bandages to make sure nothing's broken while you were on your midnight marathon."

Sam smiled, "Dean." He whined.

Dean threw his brother a smirk, before saying. "Just lay back for me, kiddo."

Sam carefully shifted back in the bed, and placed his head back on the pillow as Dean slid up his fresh t-shirt that his older brother had somehow managed to put on him sometime through the night. There was a small patch of dried blood that'd seeped through the bandages, and Dean hoped the damage wasn't too bad.

He carefully unwrapped his little brothers bandages, and inspected the stitches. None were broken which was a miracle seeing as how much the kid had been thrashing about. The dried blood that'd been on the bandages was also showing through the stitches, and Dean sent a silent prayer that none of the current blood was fresh. He leaned over to retrieve the first-aid kit he'd left on the bedside table, and pulled out a fresh gauze and a half used tube of antiseptic.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his eyelids slowly drooping as the sleepiness started to hit again.

"Hold on, Sammy." He said, as he smeared some on the gauze and carefully swipped it over the stitches and cleaned off the dried blood. Then re-wrapped a fresh bandage around the stitched wound, he threw the used bandage on the floor beside the bed to put with the dirty washing in the morning, for now it was time to try get some more sleep before the rooster crows.

Dean slid back under the covers and stretched out beside his brother, then without any thought threw his arm protectively across his brothers chest, and drew the kid towards his own chest.

"Try to get some sleep, little brother."

He felt his kid brother curl up further into him, before they were both dead to the world again.

THE END

...

Bella Lilac

A/N - Metallica 'Nothing Else Matters'

Also I'd like to thank anyone who left behind a review, it makes my day. And also to anyone who followed/and, or favoured this story, it means a lot to know so many are enjoying my work.

Until next time, God bless,

Bella Lilac Xx


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